Forgive Me, Forget Me
by MARTYR
Summary: Ryoga tells Akane his deepest, darkest secret, and leaves for the mountains - permanently. Can their friendship ever be repaired? (My first Ranma fic, PLEASE R&R)
1. Ita est ingenium mulierum

Nihao, fanfiction readers, and welcome! Please, this is my first attempt at a Ranma ½ fic, so read and review! I must warn you, however, that I've only seen the second season of this delightful anime, therefore a lot of what's in this story could very easily be WRONG.  
  
Oh, and the main title will make sense later, I promise... It'll probably get a tad more dramatic in the next chapters, if I get to use all of the material that's lodged in my deflated head...  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma ½. All of these characters belong to Ms. Rumiko Takahashi. She's so cool... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
F O R G I V E  
M E  
-  
F O R G E T  
M E  
  
Chapter 1: Ita est ingenium mulierum... Women are like that  
  
The sun was setting beyond the horizon, splashing the entire park in a fabulously ethereal evening orange. The place seemed desolate and cold, the creaking set of swings moving ever so slightly in the summer breeze, dead leaves rustling across the patches of grass. Long, surreal shadows grew from the metal slide and the few bare trees that numbered the inside of the park gate.  
  
Ryoga sat on the lip of the cement fountain in the center of the park, numbly stewing in his own worth, not even bothering to notice he was still cold and damp from earlier. It had been several hours since the incident, and he was still wondering if he had made the best decision. He could have kept his mouth shut about the whole thing, kept his pride, his manhood, and his only friend...  
  
His dark brown eyes were still misty and glittering with the residue of crying for hours on end. It was the worst - - simply the worst. Nothing could have made his day any more horrifying.  
  
He decided to take a moment to compose himself before grabbing up his survival pack and umbrella and leaving. In all truths, he was forced to take several minutes of composure; therefore he sat there, miserable and tired, on the fountain edge for much longer than he had hoped. His forehead felt bare and uncomfortable and itched beneath his charcoal bangs.  
  
Though, despite his discomfort, he really didn't want that darn bandana back...  
  
Damn his truthfulness. Damn his huge, passionate heart and his beautiful, pure soul. Only the martyrs ended up dead along the way... just like him.  
  
~ Don't think 'cause I understand, I care. Don't think 'cause I'm talking, We're friends. -Sneaker Pimps, "Six Underground" ~  
  
Pubescent, teenage sobs echoed through the large dojo, splashing and bouncing off every rice-paper wall, making sure that there was not a soul in the place that could not hear it. Every inch of the otherwise quiet dojo was blanketed in long, dreary depression that made even the usually cheerful Kasumi and her younger, influential sister, Nabiki, want to cry.  
  
It hurt them to see their sister so sad...  
  
"There has to be something we can do about this..." Nabiki said flatly, though her proper older sister could tell she was concerned as ever. She fumbled with her cup of hot tea miserably, with her head resting upon the low table.  
  
Kasumi sighed, her long fingers cupping her cheek as she stared into the small pond outside. She watched a tall boy with a lengthy, black braid and a red-and-gray ensemble leap around the pond with amazing agility, followed by a growling panda. Somehow, this did not seem very fascinating to her.  
  
"Yes, you're absolutely right, Nabiki. What do you think would cheer her up?" Kasumi inquired in her usual, disconnected tone, turning to her stumped sister.  
  
A boy's adolescent scream and a splash issued from outside, and both girls turned their attention to the yonder pond, where a young redhead was pulling herself ungracefully out of the water, soaking wet. The girl screamed at the panda, "Whadja do that for?!"  
  
Nabiki lowered her eyelids, unimpressed, "Certainly not Ranma, that's for sure..."  
  
Kasumi nodded agreeably.  
  
The panda held up a sign that read: "What do you THINK I did that for?"  
  
"Very funny," she sneered, before grabbing a towel out of nowhere to dry her hair, and stomping over to the dojo. She hopped inside, grumbling, and took a seat next to Nabiki at the low-table. She was dressed in the same ensemble as the boy.  
  
"You're out of it today, Ranma," Nabiki said mockingly, "That's the fourth time you've gone -soaring- into that pond in the last half-hour."  
  
"I wonder, do you have a cold?" the longhaired Kasumi questioned cheerfully.  
  
The vivacious redhead snatched a cup of chipped ice from the gracious Kasumi (who didn't seem bothered at all by her rudeness) and began her daily rant. It went on for several minutes, and by the time she had almost finished, Kasumi and Nabiki were both entangled in watching the large panda roll around with a car tire.  
  
"It's all that stupid Akane's fault! If she'd stop -whinin'- like a baby, maybe I could get some training in!"  
  
The two entranced girls immediately snatched their eyes from the panda to look at each other, their eyes holding a conversation that the young Ranma obviously did not catch. - Someone gave a heavy knock outside Akane's door. A young girl's muffled, cracked voice screamed to her visitor, "Go away!"  
  
Ranma gave a disheartened grumble as he scrubbed the remnants of Nabiki's kettle of boiling tea out of his charcoal-gray hair. He knocked again, and commented in a bossy tone before he had the chance to be chewed out again, "Akane, come outta there and talk to me already!"  
  
"There's nothing to talk about!" she screamed, and fell silent except for her hiccupping sobs and muffled coughs. "Just leave me alone, Ranma..."  
  
The young boy's shoulders dropped heavily, and he stared at the door, thoroughly disgruntled. "I can break this door down and -make- you talk to me. I've destroyed cement pillars, ya think a wooden door's gonna stop me?"  
  
The sniffling stopped for a thoughtful moment.  
  
The door creaked open, slowly...  
  
Ranma's navy-blue eyes widened. He desperately wanted to back away, but his conscience wouldn't let him. Not now...  
  
"What is it, Ranma?"  
  
Before him, stood fifteen-year-old Akane, heir to the Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts. Her soft, brown eyes were glassy and red around the edges, as was her glowing nose, and her short, blue hair was all tousled and unkempt. There were large, dark splotches on her baby-blue dress... she looked -miserable-.  
  
"A... Akane..." he managed to stutter. Too many questions buzzed and whirred inside his inflated head to be sorted out and categorized into functional questions. So he stood there, and stuttered...  
  
She sighed grimly, and slammed the door in his face.  
  
The stupefied young man was snapped from his trance, and clenched both fists tightly around the towel draping down his chest. "W-Wait, Akane! Don't be like that! I just-!"  
  
"Nice job, Romeo," Nabiki smirked, startling him so bad that he yelped when her long fingers came down on his bare shoulder.  
  
"N-Nabiki! Don't scare me like that!" he scolded in an octave higher than usual.  
  
"I hate to say it, dear Ranma, but you really suck at this whole 'caring' business..." she lectured in an almost sympathetic voice, before patting him once on the shoulder and leaving down the hallway again.  
  
"Oh, like you can do any better!" he screeched in defeated retaliation, his cheeks burning red. His soon-to-be sister-in-law blew him off with a wave of her hand before turning the corner.  
  
Ranma grumbled curses under his breath sharp enough to peel paint.  
  
"She's really a nice girl. That's just her way of saying 'keep up the good work'..." another light female voice spoke up behind him. The tortured Ranma nearly flattened his face on the ceiling with his next spectacular leap into the air from sudden heart failure. He rounded on the smiling Kasumi, eyes dilated, clutching his heart.  
  
"O-Oh..." his voice quivered, and his eye giving a massive twitch, "I-Is that so...?"  
  
He decided then that Kasumi was just too permanently out-of-it to yell at... - The three desperate teenagers sat at the low table, eyeing each other as though trying to read everyone's minds. In all truths, that's exactly what they were doing. They had absolutely no clue as to who or what had put Akane in such a terrible mood, or how they were going to get her out of her current state.  
  
The black-haired Ranma sighed, and toppled backwards onto the floor, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. His otherwise inflated noggin suddenly felt devoid of any knowledge as to how to cheer up his fiancé.  
  
Kasumi turned to Ranma, who had disappeared from the table, and asked in a quiet, concerned tone of voice, "Has she been like this all day, Ranma?"  
  
"Nah, she was fine during school," Ranma said, thoroughly disenchanted, "Goin' home, she kinda strayed off the path, said she had someone to meet..."  
  
Ranma furrowed his brow in an attempt to connect the two events. After a few moments of collective silence, he was left with not even a clue.  
  
"Maybe she was attacked on the way home...?" Nabiki guessed, though already knowing she would be completely wrong. Akane never cried about getting attacked. She was rather used to it by now... used to winning, anyway.  
  
"Nah. That's too obvious," he commented, suddenly feeling like some great novel detective. "Akane doesn't seem like the kind of person who would cry over anything that insignificant..."  
  
"Did she say who she was going to meet?" Kasumi asked, too anxious for her sister to even sip at her tea. Her long fingernails drummed against the tiny, porcelain cup.  
  
Ranma shook his head, stumped and rather disappointed in himself. "I didn't really think to ask who it was-"  
  
"-Of course," Nabiki sighed spitefully. "You never ask her about anything, Ranma, it's like you don't even care. You're her fiancé, so you should at least learn to act like it!"  
  
Being the first time he had ever heard Nabiki truly scold him, Ranma decided not to take her words too personally, like he did every thing else.  
  
He sighed melodramatically, looking up into his fluffy bangs with crossed eyes, "She can look after herself. I'm her fiancé, not her babysitter."  
  
"Be it babysitter or fiancé," Kasumi chimed in wisely, "you really should take a closer look at her. She's not just the tomboy you know... she's also a growing girl, and I know from experience that this can be a most confusing time for her. I think that your loving support would be all she needs to get through this tough time."  
  
Ranma shifted his weight to look around the table to Kasumi, with one eyebrow raised. She was smiling, her long brunette hair flowing down one shoulder. She had always been helpful with housework and such, but this seemed to be the first time she had ever been insightful for his benefit...  
  
Ranma believed himself to be opening up to the girls in ways he never thought was possible. He was seeing new sides to both of them, and rather liking it...  
  
"Hey, here's an idea..." Nabiki began sarcastically, "how 'bout someone go and -ask- her? I'm sure it would mean a lot more to her if we did..."  
  
"I ain't goin'..." Ranma huffed, and closed his eyes.  
  
Nabiki growled, rounding on the tired Ranma with glaring eyes, "Didn't we just have this talk? You don't listen very well, do you, Ranma?"  
  
"I listen perfectly well!" he snarled back at her, "I already tried checking up on her, and she told me to go away!"  
  
"You really -are- a little clueless, aren't you, Ranma?" Kasumi chuckled, as though to compliment the arguing boy. "She's just playing hard-to-get with you."  
  
Ranma blinked stupidly at Kasumi, trying to find the motive behind her last comment. His face was flushed red.  
  
"H-Hard-to-get?" he asked, his voice cracking wearily.  
  
"She's not just going to give herself up to you..." Nabiki sneered, once again planting her chin onto the tabletop. "You've got to earn her trust."  
  
"H... How would I go about doing that?"  
  
"Ranma, you-!" Nabiki held back an insatiable craving to punch her destined brother-in-law in the face. "What have we been -talking- about for the last five minutes?"  
  
Ranma grumbled loudly, sitting up. He rested his elbows on the table, planting his face in his hands. "Are you absolutely -sure- that just talking to her is going to work? It sounds too simple to be true..."  
  
A hard hand came down on his shoulder blade, throwing him forward several times and leaving his back stinging.  
  
"You'll be fine, Ranma!" Nabiki beamed at him, patting him warmly on the back, "All you have to do is be the shoulder she can cry on! You'll make it, no problem!"  
  
Ranma scrambled to his feet and away from the abusive Nabiki, rubbing his damaged back. "Fine! I'll go, just leave me alone!"  
  
With that, he scurried out through the doorway, down the hall to Akane's room, without a second glance.  
  
"We're rooting for you, Ranma!" Kasumi cried happily.  
  
He disappeared down the hallway. A comfortable silence passed through the two smiling sisters as they watched their soon-to-be brother-in-law disappear around the corner.  
  
"He's dead, isn't he?" Nabiki asked proudly.  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid so..." Kasumi responded worrisomely, taking a sip at her tea. 


	2. There's something very wrong here

Second chapter! Hallelujah!  
  
I didn't think I'd even get this far, but I've decided to keep goin' with this story. I've found that's it's insanely easy to stay in character, which is way cool.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these cool characters. This glorious anime belongs to the awesome Rumiko Takahashi and all her coolness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
F O R G I V E  
M E  
  
-  
F O R G E T  
M E  
  
Chapter 2: There's something very wrong here...  
  
The Cat Café was closed for the evening. The apron-clad, purple-haired Shampoo was busy taking several contemplating, wordless trips from the main dining room to the kitchen, hauling mountains of empty bowls that used to contain ramen to dump into the sink and wash later that evening, when she was in a better mood. Her eyes were thoughtless and gray and did not remove themselves from the floor.  
  
Mousse watched her from behind his gigantic, round glasses, and ran a hand through his waist-length black hair. She was grabbing up several dishes and balancing them on two trays, but didn't look as enthusiastically agile as usual. As he sat at a cleared table farthest from the rice-paper entrance, he realized how entirely grateful he was for his goofy-looking glasses; they clearly stated that his darling, dearest, always sun-shiny, wonderful Shampoo was not in the best of moods.  
  
"What's wrong, love?" Mousse asked with an adolescent twang in his voice that touched a nerve somewhere in the back of Shampoo's mind, making her wince visibly. But she knew he meant no harm by it, so she shook it off and continued on her way to the kitchen as though she hadn't heard him.  
  
Both of his eyebrows disappeared below his glasses in a hopeless, disappointed silence. Was there nothing he could do to cheer her up? It seemed there was always -something- feeding the two-inch gap between them...  
  
Shampoo disappeared into the kitchen, and returned to the main dining room a few seconds later without any trays or damp rags to clean the tables with. She wrestled feverishly to untie the knot of the apron, and tossed it to the floor, plopping down into a chair across from the unsatisfied boy.  
  
Several awkward minutes passed, with Shampoo resting arm on the table and cupping her cheek in grumpy exhaustion, and Mousse sitting stoutly in his chair, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do.  
  
Shampoo glared over at her companion as if he had suddenly popped up out of nowhere. "What you want, Mousse? Shampoo very tired now..." she stated flatly in the vague bit of English she knew.  
  
"I... Shampoo!" Mousse exclaimed dramatically, reaching out a hand across the table in hopes that his beloved would take it. "Please! Tell me what's wrong! I love you and want to help you, Shampoo!" Shampoo slapped his hand away, unimpressed. "Oh god, no!" he cried, flattening his face on the table in defeat.  
  
"Shampoo not feel good, Mousse," Shampoo sighed quietly. Mousse looked up from the table, his nose bright red and his glasses cracked in the corner of one lens. "Not in mood for silly business."  
  
The longhaired boy quickly sat up straight in his chair, and combed back his messy hair modestly. Tipping his glasses down the bridge of his nose, he looked across the table to his blurry red-and-purple blotch of a companion. "I can understand that."  
  
"Or not."  
  
Shampoo rested her head on the table wearily, and Mousse followed close behind, trying his best to match her eyes even for just a second. With his glasses pushed up properly, the clueless Mousse watched the lovely, wistful Shampoo. There was something in her eyes that suggested much more than exhaustion.  
  
He asked with quiet caution, "Did something happen today, Shampoo?"  
  
"Leave Shampoo alone, airhead duck!" Shampoo warned a little harsher than was required. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose in shock, and he stared blindly at the ferocious Shampoo, knowing he had touched a nerve.  
  
"Was it Ranma?" Mousse asked, his anger rising. He knew the risk in shoving his nose where it didn't belonged, but he had to know...  
  
The angered Shampoo slammed her fist down on the wooden table. It crunched in half, straight down the middle and each half fell to the floor. When the dust and debris had cleared seconds later, Mousse had very eagerly backed away. Okay, so maybe it -wasn't- the best idea to pry...  
  
Shampoo rose from her seat and walked briskly over to Mousse, as though with a purpose. Bending down so that she was only an inch from his nose, she watched the longhaired boy blush and shake feverishly.  
  
"Mousse too much spaz. Mousse no understand for life of him," the purple- haired girl whispered in devastating spite. Mousse, stuck to the back of his chair in fright, was on the verge of tears. Never had he seen Shampoo so angry...  
  
Shampoo straightened up, gave her adolescent admirer a cold, scolding glare, and flipped her hair behind her shoulder as she disappeared back behind into the kitchen.  
  
Mousse toppled numbly from his seat, unable to work out coherent sentences.  
  
~~~ "Cellophane, Mister Cellophane... Should I bend my name? I'm Mister Cellophane... 'Cause you could look right through me, walk right by me... And never know I'm there." -Chicago (Mister Cellophane) ~~~  
  
"Ryoga?"  
  
Ranma gave a start, as his beloved fiancé sobbed with an unintentional dramatic hiccup. Nodding uneasily, Akane slowly sat up on her bed, crossing her legs, and wiped her eyes on her sleeves. "How could that be, Akane? Ryoga wouldn't hurt a flea... H-He couldn't -catch- a flea, at that!"  
  
Akane parted her lips to respond, and fell silent, her eyes unfocused on the rug floor. More tears bubbled up, temporarily impairing her speaking abilities, and she gave a hearty gasping sob.  
  
Ranma's heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he watched his friend's tears deepen the color of her rug. Never had Ranma seen anything like this, nor did he want to ever want to see Akane cry again... She was always so strong, so unfeeling. Who knew she could even produce tears, let alone unleash them in front of an inconsiderate bastard such as himself?  
  
"A... Akane..." Ranma whispered up from his place on the floor. He searched the floor desperately for a clue, for something to cheer her up, but nothing came. Unknowingly, he shifted his gaze to the large shelf behind him, and found something that made his heart stop in his chest:  
  
Ryoga's bandana.  
  
He looked up at it in a fearful silence as it hung down from one of the topmost shelves. It was dangerously close to slipping off the wood piece and floating into the wastebasket right underneath. Had she put it there for a reason?  
  
Ranma shook his head, unable to ask his troubled friend about it. The last thing he wanted was to deepen the morbid gash in her heart.  
  
Desperately troubled eyes looked up at the hopeless Akane, and the dark- haired Ranma began to wonder how long she had bottling up these kinds of emotions...  
  
'Why?' he screamed to himself mentally, 'Why is Akane so sad? If Ryoga hurt her...'  
  
Alas, there were no visible scars on her body. She didn't seem physically distraught, but the tears were definitely taking a toll on her sanity. There had to be an answer...  
  
'... I'll never forgive him.'  
  
Ranma grumbled angrily to himself, locking his jaw in contemplation. A small, audible tearing noise sounded from the side of him, and he snatched his eyes to his left. There was a large, gaping tear in his shirt where he had been unknowingly tugging at it.  
  
This wasn't cool on any level.  
  
Akane sniffed, "Should I patch that up for you?" Her voice was a little lighter, a little more cheerful, than it had been prior to certain unknown events.  
  
'Wha... What?' Ranma breathed to himself. How could she possibly be thinking about his petty needs when she was in so much deeper?  
  
The dark-haired boy made an exaggerated move, straightening up and swinging a clenched fist by his side. "No! Absolutely not! I don't need your help, Akane, so just forget it!" - Outside the door, Nabiki slapped a hand to her forehead, and slumped into her shoulders with her back against the door. 'Well, it's all down-hill from here...' - Obviously, that had come off the wrong way. Ranma pursed his lips together, his eyes wide and unbelieving as he stared up at Akane. The blue- haired young girl scooted back an inch, her shoulders dropping. Wide, wondering eyes blinked away tears as she stuttered a quiet, "W-Well... uh..."  
  
Ranma stuttered as well, "A... Akane, I didn't mean..."  
  
Akane's thin eyebrows lowered dangerously. Ranma gulped, and slowly, cautiously, lowered his fist. Here is comes.... - Nabiki plugged her ears with her fingers, and curled up into a ball. - Several innocents on the street below stopped suddenly. The sound of shattered glass and a young boy's frightened screams broke the calm atmosphere, as an injured Ranma went soaring out of a second-story dojo window and landing in a nearby tree. Shards of glass and wood littered the yard.  
  
Akane stuck her head out the window, screaming furiously to the smoldering Ranma, "YOU IDIOT! SEE IF I EVER OFFER TO HELP YOU AGAIN!" With that, she disappeared behind her curtains, most likely never to be seen again.  
  
-^^-  
  
"Ryoga, you say? What about him?"  
  
Mousse was flat on his back on a cold counter in the kitchen; shirtless, with tissue stuck up his nose to stop the bleeding. After the fifth time Shampoo had punched him in the face for prying into her life, she had finally come to terms with the fact that Mousse was not going to stop bothering her until she elaborated.  
  
The sassy young Shampoo was sitting upright on the counter across from his, reluctantly taping Mousse's glasses back together. She grumbled in an irritated manner, "You really want know?"  
  
"Why would I ask you if I didn't?" he asked in a more sarcastic tone than he had intended. Shampoo looked up from his glasses, locking eyes with her companion. The pair of glasses in her hand seemed to spontaneously crunch in her grasp, and the dark-haired young man made a desperate squeaking noise in the back of his throat.  
  
After a minute or so of this awkward, vengeful silence, the young Chinese girl went back to fixing her admirer's glasses. Mousse extended a sigh of exasperation, thankful that Shampoo had stopped staring at him as though he were just another head to chop off.  
  
"Anyway..." Shampoo continued, eyes focused on the glasses in her hands, "If Mousse shut up, maybe Shampoo tell him what wrong..."  
  
Looking up, Shampoo found Mousse nodding feverishly with his lips pursed together tightly, and thus began in the calmest voice she could muster, "Shampoo make delivery early today, and on way, came 'cross park on far end of town." Mousse was nodding lightly, hanging onto every word. "I see pervert Akane-girl and Ryoga talking by fountain, Ryoga dripping wet, and something odd happen then!"  
  
Shampoo turned to look her friend in the eyes, with a wide, wondering expression. "Mean Akane-girl slap poor Ryoga and run away like being chased by Dogs of Hell!"  
  
Mousse cocked his head to the side with an unbelieving look in his eyes. "Akane slapped Ryoga? Why on earth would she do that? She's normally such a sweet girl..."  
  
Shampoo went back to the glasses, shrugging indifferently, "Shampoo don't know. Even stranger, Ryoga come to café two hour after incident to tell Shampoo and great-grandma... that..."  
  
Shampoo pursed her lips, debating whether she should finish her sentence. Mousse sat up slowly, his head pounding, and hunched over as though he had never used his body before. He found the confidence to look her in the eyes, although painfully aware that he would probably receive a new nosebleed. "...What? What did he say, Shampoo?"  
  
Shampoo took her eyes to the floor, no longer even fumbling with the glasses, and said in a slow, mournful tone, "... That he leaving for China tonight... that he not coming back."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
That's not a very good cliffhanger, but whudeva, ya know? Now, don't forget to leave a review for me! I would MUCHO appreciate it! ^.~ 


	3. Sweet dreams, traveler

Chapter three, praise the Lord!   
  
Wow, third chapter! I didn't think I'd get this far when I first began... but here I am! I'm feeling really good about this story, about where it's going. It's fun to waste precious time with... ya know? Also, I apologize about how long it took to get this chapter up. Stuff's happenin' in my life that I can't really control, and it's giving me writer's block...   
  
MUCHO GRACIOUS (I don't know if that's proper Spanish...) to all of my -wonderful- reviewers! You guys ROCK MY FACE!   
  
And a special thanks to my SUPA-FLY beta-reader, Alucard2! You so cuh- raaazy!   
  
Disclaimer: I don't like disclaimers. I think on the next chapter, I'll get someone else to do it... Oh, by the way, this wonderful anime belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
F O R G I V E  
M E  
-  
F O R G E T  
M E   
  
Chapter 3: Sweet dreams, traveler  
  
A small, arched bridge, dimly lit by four flickering lampposts, connected a river in a darker, more desolate section of Tokyo. Ryoga had never been here before, but then again, most of the places he had traveled to had been purely by mistake anyway. This place however, especially in the dead of night when all the earth seemed to be at it's most vulnerable point... made the hair on the back of his neck tingle. He wasn't supposed to be here, but he had to stop, just for tonight. It was much too dark to continue on his journey.   
  
The mountains of Japan were his destination, as always, but the young traveler assumed it would be difficult to reach those mountains when you were stumbling around in pitch-black. Though his conscious demanded he keep moving - not out of fear of Akane, but of something he wasn't even sure existed - his feet ached and pleaded for him to stop. Also needing the sleep and the time to reflect (considering prior traumatizing events) he chose rest for the night...   
  
Sitting his backpack down by the concrete railing of the bridge, the weary adventurer took up his heavy red umbrella, and took a seat next to his pack. With his back against the stone edge of the bridge, and absolutely nothing to look at, Ryoga crossed his legs and hugged his umbrella as though a sudden chill had swept him.   
  
He was sound asleep the instant his heavy eyelids had closed...   
  
-^^-   
  
... And found himself in a most horrible place moments later. Soft, pastel- pink cherry blossoms spun and drifted in the chilly evening air contently, eventually floating to the cold ground in slow reluctance within the small, enclosed park. The sun was going down, beautiful dramatic orange rays boasting its last show for the evening. Someone sat in front of him, some beautiful girl with soft, brown eyes and short, bouncy blue hair.   
  
He decided right then and there that this certain blessed angel before him at least doubled in beauty when heavy, glistening tears ran in trails down her willowy cheeks.   
  
"... Oh, Ryoga," she swooned with a quiet, wistful grace. Her lovely eyes were glazed and sparkling with the residue of new tears.   
  
'...Ah, She speaks the name I long to hear. Never have I been so pleased with the sound of my own repulsive appellation. Please, Love... won't you speak to me again?'   
  
"R... Ryoga, I..." She stumbled upon words that would not come. Suddenly, this perfect angel seemed broken and confused, unable to step over the slick stones of her cluttered emotions.   
  
"A-Akane, please..." the ashamed, young rogue tilted his gaze to the ground. He was soaked down to his very bones and hardly noticing. All he knew was that he felt sick to his stomach, and was ready to turn into the fountain and vomit.   
  
'Please, Love, understand my plight. I am but a mere fortune hunter, ensnared in the relentless web of my own Heart's Desire. I wander the land whilst holding my humanity above my head, so as to find love when all else in life has failed me...'   
  
"Ryoga... why? Why tell me now, of all times? Why did you wait so -long-?" she asked quietly, thankful her voice hadn't given away. Words were worth much more than tears now, and in mere milliseconds, the moment would no longer be sufficient...   
  
"I had to, Akane. Please understand that using you or hurting you was completely unintended, and I'm the biggest idiot in the world for doing both of those things and not even noticing until it was too late..." Ryoga heaved in a rackety, persistent sigh, pausing for a moment to collect himself. "But I couldn't keep you in the dark..."   
  
Ryoga's somber voice faded away with drained reluctance, though barely lingering in the unnecessary pandemonium of the lively park. Then everything went gravely silent. The wind blew in a delightful summer breeze to ruffle their hair, and the young traveler realized just how one-sided and pointless the argument was.   
  
Ryoga opened his mouth to say something positive to lighten up the situation, but abruptly shut it when his beloved whipped around to face him, her pretty face tear-stained and scowling heavily. Her chest heaved with boiling anger.   
  
The precious young girl's dark, new aura caught Ryoga completely off-guard, and he stared her in the eyes as though waiting for the heavy blade to come down on his neck.   
  
'Oh, Akane... please don't say it.'   
  
Cherry blossoms swirled and flew about in several small, hectic windstorms as the cool breeze turned into a sudden, violent wind, which aided in drowning out the young Akane's last words to poor, apologetic Ryoga.   
  
He could hear them though, even if they reached no one else's ears. And they made perfect sense, no matter how you said them.   
  
And he realized that he deserved the sudden smack across the face. He deserved to watch her leave through the storm of blossoms, deserved to feel the same pain he had caused her. He limply held out his hand, hoping that Akane would come back so that he could apologize in full to her for his obvious mistake. But in the mere seconds it took for him to shake off the initial shock of it all... she was already gone.   
  
^__^   
  
Ryoga started from his sleep, eyes heavy and his body wet with sweat and perspiration, heart thumping in his throat. He awoke with his cheek stinging feverishly, and his hand tingling as though he had hit it against a boulder. It was then that he realized that he had slapped himself from his nightmare.   
  
"Oh, great..." Ryoga said uneventfully to himself. "She even haunts me in my dreams. Oh, Akane..."   
  
At the far side of the bridge, there was a scuttling of gravel in the darkness that caught the heart-broken boy's attention with ease. Ryoga whipped his head to the side to stare into the darkness, subconsciously aware of how tightly he was gripping his red umbrella. Two lampposts were stationed on each ends of the wide bridge, so that only the four corners were visible to him.   
  
Ryoga swallowed a hefty gasp as a hooded, hunched-over figure moved into the circle of orange, flickering light at the far end of the bridge. An old woman, perhaps? A crippled young traveler with worse luck than even himself?   
  
"U-Um, excuse me...?" he said shyly, debating whether or not it was a good idea to help out this seemingly harmless stranger. He crippled along as though with an aching back or a walker of some sort, just hobbling along like he nowhere to be. "D... Do you need any help?"   
  
The stranger stopped suddenly, turning to Ryoga as though he could see straight through the darkness. Ryoga froze, and stiffened up. There was something wrong here. He could sense the atmosphere thickening around him.   
  
"Help?" the stranger asked in a very awkward, ethereal male voice. Ryoga pressed his back cautiously against the wall, staring intently at the stranger in the spotlight. "Yes... help."   
  
Ryoga wished desperately to take back the offer. This was very strange... Was this guy even human? He couldn't tell if he were man, woman, robot... the hooded figure seemed very synthetic.   
  
"Could you help me?" he asked kindly.   
  
Ryoga's eye twitched visibly. He stuttered, "Y... yeah. I-I'm not that great at directions, but I c-could-!"   
  
The large sack by his side was suddenly lifted from the ground and taken in to the black trees as though someone had reached down from the branches and snatched it up.   
  
"WHAT THE HELL?" Ryoga screamed, scrambling to his feet and searching the darkness for any trace of his pack. "What's going on? Give it back!"   
  
"Help?" the hooded figure asked again, as though nothing had happened, as though the young traveler's house (figuratively speaking) hadn't been pilfered from right under his nose. And in a startlingly deep, male voice, said in a most contemplating tone, "There will -be- no help for you."   
  
The enigmatic figure straightened up to his full height with an air of superiority. Ryoga swiveled around, gasping, but with no breath so as to speak. The man was at least six-and-a-half feet tall, with a brooding lankiness to him.   
  
"You wanna fight?" Ryoga yelled, fangs shining fiercely. "Bring it on!"   
  
He was smiling beneath his hood. Ryoga could feel it, as it made his blood run cold and his heart race at a break-neck speed.   
  
The man slowly lifted his arm, from which his hand was concealed under the flowing black sleeves. He was holding something in his hand, but the appalled Ryoga couldn't tell what... Everything went so horribly quiet...   
  
BLAM!   
  
Ryoga fell back, cracking his skull on the side of the bridge harshly. He was unconscious before he hit the ground, with a rather nasty wound in his shoulder.   
  
The hooded man retracted his smoking pistol, removed his hood, and said in a commanding voice into the rustling trees. "All right, boys. Search 'im... take everything he's got."   
  
Several lanky, seemingly human creatures popped out of the trees, all giggling and swinging their apish arms. None of them had any trouble with leaping out of the gargantuan trees in a pack and securing the unconscious boy's arms and legs to the pavement whilst the rest searched him shamelessly.   
  
...Once again, Ryoga suffered the same dream. The cheery blossoms were still pink and swirling in pastel storms... His heart was still heavy with the pain of guilt and loss... His beloved was still crying next to him. But he couldn't wake up this time...   
  
The supposed leader of the apish gang, a young man with smooth, white skin, piercing blue eyes, and long, silver hair, saluted his victim with his gun in a mocking manner. "Sweet dreams, traveler."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I'm sorry! This chapter was horrifyingly short and pointless, and I don't even know if I'm gonna bring this gang up again! I think I may give the leader-guy a teensy role in later chapter, for YAOI purposes... ya think I should? I wanted to dedicate a chapter to Ryoga because you've all been so... BLAUGH! And obviously wantin' some Ryoga-goodness. So... I'll bring him up more, I promise! ^^; Remember: I accept Flames. I don't like them, but I'll accept them. PLEASE REVIEW! 


	4. Welcome to the Kunou Family Resort and H...

Jesus Christe! Fourth Chapter!  
  
I absolutely love this story. It's so fun to write. Oh, and I must apologize for the delay of the last few chapters. Writer's block really sucks pond water, ya know?  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys rock my face!  
  
Disclaimer: Ranma ½ belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I write for the pleasure of the fans, not for the money.   
  
FORGIVE ME  
-  
FORGET ME  
  
Chapter 4: Welcome to the Kunou Family Resort and Hot Spring!  
  
It was around midnight when the door to Mousse's room creaked open. A small, piercing beam of light shot through the cracked doorway, searching the dark, curtain-drawn room. Curving and melting along random objects of mass destruction and several unwound yoyos that had obviously been dumped from his sleeves earlier that night, the young Shampoo, whose long, purple hair was up in two buns atop her head, became almost entirely entranced at all the junk that littered her prospective fiancé's floor.  
  
She shook her head feverishly, furrowed her brow, and used the flashlight to guide herself to Mousse's bedside; she had a mission. She opened the door further with careful precision, shoving several objects out of the doorway, and crept inside.  
  
Upon skipping over several yoyos and knives and such, and reaching the dark- haired boy's bedside, the stealthy Shampoo found a lightly snoring Mousse hidden under checkered covers up to his shoulders, with his glasses folded on his nightstand. He had his feather pillow wrapped tightly in his arms so that his head rested on the cold mattress with his long black hair draped across his face...  
  
And upon further inspection, the foreign girl found the rumors to be true, that people looked much younger when they slept.  
  
Shampoo stared with large, wondering eyes, not realizing that his lightly silhouetted features had entranced her as if by some dark magic. And, with her free hand, she carefully cupped his cheek, soft enough so that it did not wake him. His skin was softer than velvet, surprisingly enough.  
  
Shampoo playfully poked at his cheeks, giggling to herself when he grumbled miserably, mumbled something about confessing his undying love for her in his sleep, and settled onto his back with one arm dangling off the side of the bed.  
  
Shampoo cocked her head to the side, grinning deviously, and ran her fingers along his cheek. Mousse shivered in his sleep, smiling awkwardly-  
  
-And was abruptly awoken the next moment by a metal flashlight across his face.  
  
Curling up in his covers and cursing rabidly at the throbbing pain in his bulging cheek, the pajama-clad girl waited patiently for his tantrum to subside. She sat on her knees next to his bed, with her hands folded in her lap, knowing that once her furious admirer realized that it was she who had so cruelly awoken him, he would be forgiving and abundantly pleased by her 'mark of love.'  
  
The visionless boy ripped the covers off of him, ready for a fight. Curling his fist, he yelled out angrily to his anonymous predator, "How 'bout you fight me like a man, you cowardly-!"  
  
And upon seeing Shampoo sitting cat-like on the floor next to his bed, the longhaired boy promptly fainted back onto his mattress.  
  
Shampoo whispered up to him, "This no time to play silly game, Mousse!"  
  
Mousse spontaneously awoke, peered over the side of his bed with his long fingers grasping the bedspread in front of him, so as to gaze at his nightly visitor. Tears welled in his eyes with... joy? Shampoo grumbled.  
  
"Sh... Shampoo? Is that really you?" he whispered in a croaky, irritable voice that would make anyone's skin crawl. "Oh, my darling Shampoo! How I have longed for this moment, when you would finally come to your senses and accept me as your husband!"  
  
Shampoo did not respond at all.  
  
"Shampoo? Is everything all right? You're very quiet all of a sudden."  
  
Still, no answer from the unmovable Shampoo. Mousse carefully poked at her, felt her cold, hard exterior against his skin. For some odd reason, she seemed to wobble slightly as though ready to tip over. He grimaced in a disgusted manner, "Shampoo! What happened to your velvety-soft skin? You're all cold and... and..."  
  
"Like vase?" she answered flatly across the room. Mousse made a curious noise in the back of his throat, grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, and took a second look at his 'wife.'  
  
And found himself staring at a large, porcelain vase overflowing with multi- colored flowers.  
  
Mousse shrieked in panic, before the flashlight came down upon his empty head once more. Pressing her fingers to her dainty lips in front of Mousse, whose upper half hung off the bed in a disheveled manner, Shampoo whispered urgently, "You make too much noise!"  
  
"Sh-Shampoo! What are you doing in here?" he asked, this time with the right amount of curiosity. There was a large lump on his head that he seemed not to notice.  
  
"Get packed, we leave tonight," she ordered.  
  
"Leave?" he screeched. "Where are we going?"  
  
"We going to mountains," she calmly explained. Mousse stilled looked confused as ever, but listened intently. "Pack enough to survive the week, and meet Shampoo downstairs. Make no noise, clumsy boy; great-grandmudda not know what Shampoo planning."  
  
Mousse nodded doubtfully, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.  
  
The sun had yet to arise in the early-morning sky. Newly polished stars beamed and twinkled down at the peaceful, slumbering city; an assuring sign of empty streets from which to make their silent escape.  
  
At a four-way stop a few blocks down from the Cat's Café, Ranma impatiently checked his non-existent watch. A heavy canvas bag sat at his feet, and a barely-conscious Akane sat upon a tall cement wall, nodding off every now and then.  
  
Both looked as though they had just jumped out of their respective beds, for both were tousle-haired with drooping eyes and posture; Akane was wrapped in a large green blanket she had probably carried with her since she fell out of bed; and the slouching Ranma didn't even notice his two new guests until they were settled right behind him.  
  
"RANMA SAOTOME!?" A panicked voice jolted the young Ranma from the calm of his own subconscious. "What on earth are -you- doing here so early in the morning?"  
  
Grumbling, the irritated pigtailed boy turned on his heels to face his four- eyed nemesis and his disdainful, purple-haired bride-to-be. Mousse was wide-awake, obviously, and carrying two large canvas packs on each shoulder; Shampoo, on the other hand, remained empty-handed but somehow much more lifeless than her companion. Ranma couldn't blame her.  
  
Akane awoke abruptly, her brown eyes rolling around in her head for one confused moment. She made a small, inquisitive noise as she stirred.  
  
"Ss... what? Time to go?" she asked lightly.  
  
"Akane!" Mousse said cheerfully, suddenly spotting the girl atop the wall. "Good morning to you."  
  
"Morn... morning?" she asked in a slurred voice, as though he had sprouted another head. Or could it be that she was questioning her own assumption of what time it was? "Oh, yeah... Good... morning..."  
  
Ranma sighed drearily, picking up his pack and leaping cat-like onto the wall next to Akane with astonishing grace and accuracy. "Does everyone have what they need? Once we're outta here, we're not coming back for anything." He glared particularly at Mousse, who grumbled inquiringly.  
  
"Shampoo," Mousse asked in a rather disappointed and skeptical voice, turning to the purple-haired girl, "Tell me we're not spending the next week with..." he glared suddenly at Ranma, the corner of his lenses twinkling dangerously, "him..."  
  
"This no fun vacation, silly Mousse, this serious business," Shampoo grumbled simply.  
  
Mousse glared daggers at his pigtailed enemy, as though desperately trying to tear Ranma's organs out with his mind. Alas, his attempts were fruitless. He chuffed, crossing his arms like a spoiled child, and looked in the direction from which he had come.  
  
"Okay," said Ranma, swiftly scooping up his dozing fiancé in his arms and crouching down on his haunches, hugging her protectively, "Let's go."  
  
And with that, the young boy leapt from his position on the wall, several feet into the air, kicked off of the cement wall on the other side of the street, and back and forth, giving him enough boost to maintain an exemplary speed for the other two. Mousse and Shampoo trailed swiftly along behind him, using the trees and rooftops as their most convenient means of staying caught up.  
  
No conversation was made the entire way. There was too much land to cross and too little things of much importance to discuss to bother with idle chitchat. By the time the sun had begun to rise, and the pastel clouds to begin breaking through the dark sky, the foursome had made several days worth of travel. Thus, they were ultimately proud of themselves and ready for a well-deserved break.  
  
Upon entering a rather large wooded area, the young leader admitted to having them lost. For how long they had wondered about the woods, following their leader's footsteps with absolute trust, they had no clue. And it was rather infuriating.  
  
"But think about it this way guys," Ranma slyly reasoned to his comrades, as they rested on a thick branch in one of the tallest trees in the area, "If we're lost, then it will make finding him even less of a hassle, right? I mean... he has no idea where he's going the majority of the time."  
  
The rest reluctantly agreed that he was, indeed, rather correct in his assumption. Thus, the motley crew ventured further into the heart of the gargantuan forest, pouncing from limb-to-limb in search of a nice resting area.  
  
From her mid-air leap to the next tree limb, the young Shampoo's glowing eyes searched the forest floor in a subconscious manner. Spotting a sizable hotel within the first clearing they had come upon, she cried to the others, "Look! There hotel in clearing!"  
  
And it was a nice hotel indeed. Three stories tall, and by the looks of it, fairly brand new; like a mansion more than anything. But why on earth such a nice hotel had been placed at such a random location, nobody knew.  
  
Ranma and Mouse stopped on whatever limb they were on, and turned to look in her direction. Following her pointing finger, the boys were ecstatic to have found a place to rest for the day. And, Ranma noted to himself, when Akane woke up, she'd be rather delighted as well.  
  
"Awesome! Good job, Shampoo!" Ranma cried. Akane was becoming rather heavy, he noted, as he leapt from the thickened tree branch and onto the forest floor.  
  
The dark-haired boy carelessly tossed his dizzy fiancé aside for the spastic Mousse to catch, and said dismissively over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go check this place out. Stay right here until I say it's safe."  
  
And, wouldn't you know, the pigtailed boy took not one step, before a sizable square of the ground beneath him caved in suddenly. Ranma fruitlessly attempted to climb the air for a panicked millisecond, but to no avail. With a sharp yelp of terror, the uppity young leader had disappeared beneath the earth.  
  
"RANMA!" Shampoo screamed, and chased after him. But the large hole had vanished, and was somehow replaced with brand new dirt. "Mousse! What we do now?"  
  
"You're asking -me-?" Mousse screeched defensively, whilst struggling to hold the sleeping Akane. His glasses were gradually slipping down the bridge of his nose, which he attempted to readjust with his shoulder, which, in turn, made him look disheveled and silly. "I don't even know where we -are-, much less what to do when our dumb-as-dirt 'leader' runs himself into a hole!"  
  
Shampoo shot him a scathing look, before beginning her short, bouncy trek up to the glass double-doors. Mousse shamefully followed.  
  
Upon entering the double-doors, Shampoo was stopped dead in her tracks by her simple amazement. She stared up at the marble, gold-encrusted walls and towering coliseum ceiling, large, lovely winding stair cases located on each side of the of check-in desk right ahead, complete with a twinkling, glass chandelier that could easily crush an eighteen-wheeler.  
  
The thing that really caught the foreign girl's eyes was the long line of royal-looking family portraits that numbered all the way up the staircase. The people in each portrait were elderly and seemed wise beyond all reason, and were eerily similar to someone she had met before...  
  
"Mmm, might I help you, young mistress?" a snobby, British accent brought Shampoo from her glorified reverie, and into the real world, though there wasn't much of a difference upon stepping into the hotel.  
  
The young girl carefully sashayed her way to the check-in desk, where a short, stoutly old man in a nice tuxedo was impatiently curling his already- curled mustache in his fingers.  
  
"Shampoo and stupid people behind her need place to stay for night. Also, friend of hers fell in hole in front yard. We need Ranma, so his falling in hole rather inconvenient..." she said half-heartedly, while still gazing at the portraits. They were so familiar...  
  
He looked over his half-moon glasses, and smiled sweetly.  
  
"Mmm, might you be a friend of the young master?" he inquired slyly. "It rehlly –is- about time he found himself a nice young guhl to settle down with..."  
  
Shampoo whipped her gaze from the portraits, to the portly old man behind the desk. "Young master? Who you talking?"  
  
"Oh, why, didn't you know...?"  
  
Mousse came jogging up behind the befuddled young Shampoo, huffing and puffing and completely out of breath. The sleeping Akane fell from his numb arms, and plopped onto the sleek, marble floor, finally gaining enough sense to wake up. Still garbed in her blue pajamas, the young girl grumbled and set to work at folding her blanket on the floor.  
  
Akane rubbed the sleep from her bright brown eyes, and studied the entrance hall with slightly blurred vision. Her small jaw dropped as her eyes moved over the portraits. She let out a small gasp.  
  
"It... It couldn't be..." she exclaimed to herself under her breath.  
  
"Why, the young master has always been rather popular with the ladies, or so he tells me..." the little British man remarked snidely, "Ah, but the lad has a good haht. He has his eyes set on only but two of the -luckiest- young women that attend his public educational facility..."  
  
O.  
  
Coughing up sour-tasting water that had gone down the wrong pipe, the petite, redheaded Ranma sat up in a rather vast, shallow pool that came up only to her waist. Looking around her, she noticed that the abyss she had so foolishly fallen into was something of a manmade cavern, complete with hanging lanterns and small waterfalls that flowed down from strategically placed boulders that lined the walls. Distant sitars strummed a relaxing, oriental tune.  
  
The water, she also noted, was freezing, and gave off a somewhat familiar stench. She shivered and stood up, wringing the excess water from her shirt.  
  
"Where is this place...?" she asked herself, sloshing around in the knee-high pool for some sign of an exit. There was none to be found, and Ranma was beginning to wonder if she was still on the same continent...  
  
Sighing, she dropped her hands to her sides, and said in an exasperated tone, "One moment, I'm checking out a hotel, and the next, I fall into a pit. What luck..."  
  
The sound of water rippling and moving water quietly behind her knocked the young Ranma from her despairing subconscious; the sound of someone stepping into the pool, suddenly. She hadn't heard any footsteps...  
  
She swung her body around to meet her predator, and gasped.  
  
.O  
  
Akane stood up from her sitting position on the floor, eyes glittering and fascinated. "Just who are you talking about? Who -is- this 'young master' of yours?" she asked with a tinge of impatience in her voice. The blue duck pajamas were rather disarming, so the man behind the desk hardly noticed.  
  
"Mmm, why, the same young master who happens to own this lovely chain of hotels. T'was passed down to him by his forefathers and his forefather's forefathers and..."  
  
"That isn't telling me anything..." Akane said with a deeper edge to her voice. The portraits were infuriation little peeves in the back of her mind.  
  
The small, British bellhop adjusted his glasses, and peered absently at the befuddled young girl from behind the counter. The corner of his lens gave off a devious twinkle.  
  
Shampoo and Mousse both listened intently, brows furrowed.  
  
"Well, I would ring for him, but I'm afraid the young Master Tatewaki Kunou is in his study, and wishes not to be disturbed."  
  
O.O  
  
Ranma, her braid swinging madly behind her, tightened her fists with a terrified look on her face.  
  
"K... Kunou!?"  
  
A young man with short-cropped brunette hair gave the redhead a foreign look through piercing brown eyes. The wooden katana fell from his loose grasp, and he hadn't realized that the bottoms of his light blue kimono were soaked and probably ruined by now.  
  
"My pigtailed goddess...?"  
  
A mad dash for the pigtailed girl (made only worse by his scream of: "MY PIGTAILED DARLING, HOW I HAVE LONGED TO SEE YOU!") and the horrified Ranma (made only so by her furious attempt to get the hell away from this maniac) was speeding through the water at an impossible pace, making title waves behind her that pulled the infatuated young swordsman under.  
  
After several loud, splashing minutes of being chased, she stopped, skidded to a halt, and put a hand to her chest. The rest of her clothes were drenched with all the torrents she had raised in pursuit of an exit, and her hair was damp with sweat. Ranma wasn't sure if she dared to move in fear of... piranhas or whatever Kunou had cooked up, thus settled to listening to her own exhaustion.  
  
A sudden, deafening battle roar issued behind her and she spun on her heels, only to be mercilessly drug under the raging torrents by a too- determined young swordsman. Ranma attempted a scream of fright at Kunou's sudden entrance, and ended up with her lungs full of water. She spat and coughed wiggly air bubbles and breathed in the water in sheer panic.  
  
In the back of her subconscious, she noted that what she was breathing in was not, in fact, water, but something much stronger.  
  
Throwing her head out of the water, Ranma gasped deeply for sweet, sweet oxygen, and fell over, crippled with exhaustion and an abundance of water floating around inside of her.  
  
She coughed harshly, and wallowed around in the shallow pond dizzily. She gave a sharp hiccup as her vision began to blur and her insides began to twist oddly. Little bubbles of giggly warmth made their way through her stomach, and she smiled as a red blush painted her face.  
  
'This... is not... water...'  
  
"What...'s going on...?" Another sharp, gut-wrenching cough (this time, spewing up unnecessary 'water' in the process), and the aching young girl was down for good. That meaning, her numb, shaking legs gave out from under her, and she fell into the water shoulder-first, her long red braid tailing behind her.  
  
A Buggy-eyed Kunou stood, feet away from her, staring as though his beloved had been shot full of holes. She was drowning – it was close enough.  
  
"My... beloved pigtailed princess..." he whispered in a disbelieving voice to himself, and ran to his wounded captor, whisking her up in his arms. She jerked in his grasp like a sand doll. A perplexed expression came across his face once Kunou realized that his darling redhead was, indeed, snoring – quite soundly, at that.  
  
"Have no fear, my love," he assured her, "You are safe within the confines of my abode. I oblige you; have your stay, as long as you wish, whilst you rest off your hangover." He looked about the cavern, and mumbled skeptically to himself, "Mayhap a mantrap of sake carried not such a menacing appeal..."  
  
-.O  
  
"KUNOU?" the crew shouted in disbelief.  
  
The butler smiled, his mustache curling up almost to his eyes with pleasure, and gave a hearty laugh. He said in his content British accent, "So, I see you've already met the young master! I must say, he'll be quite pleased to know some friends have come to visit."  
  
Akane turned quickly on her heel, and began strutting heavily towards the exit. "I'm outta here."  
  
Mousse, his heavy glasses slipping down his nose, called after her in his squeaky voice, "Akane! Where are you going?"  
  
Akane was already to the double-doors, and gave a strong push to open them. She turned her fiery gaze quickly over her shoulder, and responded in a furious manner, "Anywhere that does not contain that idiot, Kunou!" The butler gave an appalled gasp, the tips of his curled mustache singed. "This place is a death-trap, if I know how his sick mind works. I'm going to go find Ryoga by myself."  
  
With that, the blue-haired girl pushed the double-doors open, and the two remaining companions watched her bustle out of the mansion and across the yard.  
  
After a few moments of awkward silence, the purple-haired girl turned to the wide-eyed little man behind the desk, and said curiously, "It okay if we rent out room for night?"  
  
"Oh, yes, dear, of course." The butler turned and grabbed a key from a hook and handed it to her, before scribbling something down on a clipboard next to him. "You'll be in room two-thirty-nine. Please, make yourself at home, and don't touch anything that looks like it might explode or sprout legs and kill you." The old man turned from his clipboard, and smiled gingerly to the couple, "Welcome to the Kunou Family Resort and Hot Springs."  
  
Sorry for the wait, amigos! I really had trouble writing this chapter, trying to be so spontaneous and all. Thanks for being so patient with me! I do accept Flames, even though I don't like them at all.  
  
Please review! I love knowing that my stuff doesn't suck pond water! 


	5. Snapshots and Lover's Tiffs

Fifth chapter, bless your heart!

Hello once again, fan fiction readers. It's time for another brain-numbingly pointless chapter of Forgive Me, Forget Me. I love you all. Please review.

**Disclaimer:** You know I don't own Ranma. You –know- I don't own Ranma.

**FORGIVE ME **

**-**

**FORGET ME**

Chapter 5:

Snapshots and Lover's Tiffs

The red headed Ranma woke up under thin white blankets, with a damp rag across her forehead to soothe the pain of her hangover. The dark ceiling, which blurred in and out of focus as she came to, did not process in her memory bank. Even the subtle sound of logs cracking in a low fire helped to send chills creeping up her spine.

Ranma grumbled, turning her head slowly to better observe the dark room.

She found herself resting upon a tall four-poster bed, in a dark room she had never seen in her life. Two chairs big enough to eat an entire man were cat-cornered to a blazing fire that crackled humbly across the room. Warm light spilled across the wooden floor and up to her bed, but not strong enough to penetrate the corners of her room. A small table next to her bed held a steaming bowl of broth that looked utterly tempting - something nice and warm to soothe her stomach. The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness.

Someone really had been watching out for her.

Ranma lifted a heavy hand and placed it uneasily onto her face, massaging the corners of her eyes. As thankful as she was for whomever's fantastic display of hospitality, she could not resist a grumbled, "What the -hell- is going on…?"

She strained her washboard stomach in an attempt to lift herself to a sitting position, but to no avail. The attempt itself wore her out, draining the aching redhead of her last bit of energy. She gave a heave and rolled over onto her side, rolled again…

PLOP!

Ranma crashed loudly to the floor, giving herself a horrible case of whiplash in the process. The ceiling looked so tall from down there, she realized in a disconnected manner, then proceeded to raise herself into a sitting position and promptly rested her weight on the side of the bed. She listened to the dull sound of rushing blood in her ears before getting to all fours and crawling drearily to the door. She slunk into the red-carpeted, dimly-lit hall, using the sparkling brass doorknob to brace herself as she stood.

Stepping lightly down the hall, the ill redhead poked around for any sign of a restroom. Not only did she faintly smell of sake, but her fantastic tumble to the floor and constant movement thereon had tested the overall might of her cast-iron stomach. It growled every now and then.

The redhead stopped suddenly, feeling her own heart lurch, freeze over, and pound loudly in her ears. Every fiber in her body tingled in a disgusted manner as she placed a shaking hand to her chest and grabbed at the loose cloth at her left breast. Instinctively, she searched the hall for any clue as to what had brought about this sudden wave of emotion.

She shook her head, still feeling rather ill, and continued down the hall.

A small camera, hidden with the dark corner of the hallway, relived her every movement.

Silent as a statue, Shampoo unpacked her things into a large oaken chest, and reveled in the humble feeling of her suite. The air conditioning was like an oasis in the desert, and she found herself tumbling onto one of two queen-sized beds in a state of numb exhaustion.

Mousse entered quietly through the door, barren of luggage aside from a small white ice bucket; he had gone down the hall to the ice machine per Shampoo's request to fill it. His perplexed expression did not phase the tired Shampoo; in fact, she had barely come to grasp with his sudden appearance until the unusual sound of plastic being set upon marble reached her ears. Opening one eye, Shampoo's critical gaze melted into one of deepening confusion.

The reflection of his eyes in the dressing room mirror was dark and foreboding, stringy black hair forming a silk curtain around his shoulders, his strong hands still tight around the rim of the bucket. With his large glasses perched in his hair, the young girl wondered if he was contemplating running into a wall or if it was something more…

Graceful as a bull in a china shop, Shampoo asked dryly, "What wrong with you, Emo Boy?"

… No response. Not even a single blink.

Shampoo mentally grumbled. She said in a fiercer tone, "You listening at all? I said-!"

Mousse flipped his glasses down, spun on his heels, and flung open the door to the suite. Shampoo watched in confused shock.

'What the…?'-

"I'll be back in a few minutes, Shampoo. Get some rest."

The door closed softly behind him. Shampoo, her hands laced behind her head, stared at the door for what seemed like eternity. The chill in his voice… the impatient air of his heavy stride…

The purple-haired girl sat up (much to her displeasure), grumbled, and went to the marble counter in the dressing room. Looking into the small icebox, she found it bare.

. 

The distant sound of a bubbling river, and finally, a bridge. It was clear in her view now, a large cement arch over a rushing river that was chipped from years of weather. It glistened in the gorgeous afternoon sun like an ancient pyramid. Stopping a few yards before her destination, Akane put her hands to her knees and took a well-deserved breather. The grass beneath her slippers glimmered with dew, moving and twitching with life. Her short blue hair was raked back with sweat, tangled in a wild and somewhat appealing manner.

Regaining her fighting spirit, the determined young girl took a few skipping steps through the prickly grass and bare patches of earth, and stopped abruptly. Her irises dilated; the air caught in her throat. The sun suddenly burned much brighter.

"-R… Ryoga…!-"

Lightning fast, she ascended the arch of the bridge and skidded to a crumpled heap of a boy known as 'Ryoga', whose eyes were closed tight and whose limbs fell limp against the ledge of the bridge like a rag doll. A thick stream of blood trailed down his face, rusted-red in the sun. Akane leaned down, hushing the breath in her throat and the throbbing of her panicked heart, and listened for any breath the beaten boy possessed; -barely- brushing her cheek, but it was there.

Peering from right to left for some sign of relief, the young girl tore away from her friend, taking several dangerous bounds to the edge of the river. She tore off her sleeve with white, shaking knuckles, and dragged it under the water. She hurried back up to her friend's unconscious form, held him in her cradling arms, and gently wiped the dirt and dry blood from his face; an unnaturally maternal gesture.

Ryoga made a near-audible grumble, his eyes screwing up in a masked terror that only he could see. Her brow lowered in a worry unsurpassed by any she had ever suffered in her lifetime.

At least he was alive.

"R-Ryoga… Wake up. You -have- to wake up!" she exclaimed under her breath, then clenched back threatening tears. She could not afford to lose her composure, not now, not when her friend needed her the most. She also had her tough-guy image to maintain; if not for Ryoga, then for her own self-esteem.

'Oh, wait. I was the one who got him into this whole mess. It's my fault he's lying here.'

Her rag-clad hand stopped over his cheek, dark brown eyes glazing over in a realization that should have taken her much less time to comprehend.

'Good job, Akane,' her inner self said dryly. 'Just be quiet and fix this.'

Another louder groan broke the blue-haired girl from her state of self-hatred. Calculating eyes soaked in the fact that the bruised and beaten boy in her arms was finally coming to. Akane broke into a crooked, teary smile as his eyes slowly opened to find her…

"R… Ryoga…?" she cried, heaving on a sudden wave of emotion.

"A… Akane?"

She pulled him into a desperate hug, her voice jittery and lined with laughter. "Y-You're alive! Oh, thank goodness!"

Ryoga blinked once. His eyes were blank, and his arms remained limp by his side, so as to not return the hug. He heard Akane sobbing and laughing into his shoulder as he slowly positioned himself against the railing of the bridge, but it was gargled as he slowly clenched and unclenched one of his hands. He smiled widely to himself, his marred features disturbingly ambiguous.

Her sobbing-laughing-hiccupping burble solidified into individual phrases that could almost be interpreted by human standards. His hands lifted from their place and began their steady journey across her back, making sure not to touch the skin.

Akane winced inwardly at his touch.

"Akane…" - he was shocked at the sound of his own voice; was it really that high? – "… Don't cry. I'm okay, really! See?" His voice was jovial and bouncy; he learned quickly to use this to his advantage. "Come on… dry your tears…"

She sniffed, gave an encouraging laugh (not because she found anything particularly funny, but to keep herself oblivious of her state of depression) and nodded once.

He was okay… By the way his head was bleeding, she was sure he had been left for dead… but how? Ryoga was clumsy, that was easy to say, but this seemed more than just a coincidence. The wound was too deep to have been self-inflicted, and it was at a particularly odd angle. As she pondered this, Akane fretted the higher possibility of the woods they resided in being filled with all kinds of unknown predators…

"Let's get you home, Ryoga," Akane said assuredly. She stood up, stumbling just a bit, and helped a tired Ryoga to his feet. He kept his eyes to the ground as he held her hand tightly, expecting her to blindly follow.

Akane seemed further disturbed by his forwardness. She stared curiously at the union of their hands. "U-Uh… Ryoga?"

"What is it, Akane?"

She stuttered on word progression. "C… Can you let go? Of my hand?"

"You wouldn't happen to have anything on you, would you?" he blabbed, completely oblivious to her question. Akane scowled curiously. "These woods are -crawling- with bandits. The kind that will pick their teeth with your -bones-."

A little switch flipped on in the back of her mind. Ryoga was not one to be so blatant, physically or verbally; especially around her, she noticed. He was always stumbling over words and giggling about things that simply did not exist. What happened to her Ryoga?

"I… I'm fine. Please… let go!" she cried timidly, snatching her hand back and giving Ryoga a scornful, inquiring glare.

He turned to her with a strange ferocity bubbling underneath questioning brown eyes. "Don't be that way, Akane. I'm just making sure we don't get separated."

It was a lie, and Akane knew it. The Ryoga she knew was not at all forward (if anything, he was a bit backwards), and the piercing confidence in his gaze and the knifelike charm of his grin deeply startled her. Her gaze darkened.

"Who are you?" she stated, more than questioned.

The young boy smiled in return, but it was crooked. "Hibiki Ryoga, last time I checked."

"Where have you taken him?"

There was a long pause. Ryoga smirked, placing a dust-ridden hand on his hip. He questioned in a condescending manner, "Akane, are you feeling alright? You don't look so well…"

Akane felt herself inwardly tearing up at the belittling expression her perky friend was giving her. There was something devious and cruel in his eyes that the blue-haired girl did not conceive was a possible expression for him.

She snarled heavily, her impatience climbing higher and higher by the second; she rationalized the outcome of knocking Ryoga into a tree for answers. She balled her white-knuckled hands into fists by her side, and yelled as though thoroughly offended by the entire incident, "I'm FINE, Ryoga. Simply and absolutely PEACHY."

"Good," he said sweetly, turning back around to the path. "Let's go then." He grabbed her arm and yanked her along with a sadistic amount of force.

Akane yanked her arm away into the air, barked "BACK OFF!" and in one swift downward motion, struck Ryoga violently across the face with an open palm.

The trees around them exploded into the sound of thousands of wings flapping in an excited and frightful manner. Black masses of crows ascended from every tree into the air, painting the sky the color of a thunderstorm for several frenzied seconds until the last lagging one of them was but a speck in the horizon. A moment of silence was passed between the two. Akane stumbled back a few paces.

"I… I'm sorry, Ryoga."

Ryoga remained completely silent, his cheek red and still at the angle Akane had put it in. Side-swept black locks hid his eyes from view. Akane's rackety breathing gradually broke the perfect silence of the woods that encased them.

"No…" Ryoga said, his voice gentle and passive. "No, Akane. It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I had no right to be so forceful with you. I'm just worried for your safety, and I didn't want things to be… awkward. Between us."

Akane watched, hooked by his dramatic change in character like a bored bystander watching a sudden fire-enveloped traffic accident from the sidewalk. It was almost a tragic thing to watch, made more so by the way he presented the notion of an earlier conversation that left both of them equally shattered and disgusted in spirit and self-image.

Ryoga lifted his head, smiling friendly, fresh tears streaking his baby face. "I just want things to go back to the way they were. I'm sorry."

Akane turned away, her shoulders shaking, clutching desperately at the tears forming in her chest. Words caught inside of her that died on the journey to her vocal cords. Her fists tightened as she grasped for air to calm her frothing emotions. She breathed out several times, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, and turned back to Ryoga. She smiled warmly, hands behind her back, busty figure adventurous and welcoming as usual. "Let's forget that. It's in the past. All that's left is to tell the others and… get home, I guess."

"Where are they?" he asked, a childish curiosity in his voice.

"We found a hotel and hot springs –randomly- in the middle of this forest about seven miles east of here. Strange how convenient it was…" she sighed, an unconcerned smile gracing her features.

She strode daintily past him, leading the way. Ryoga smiled strangely, and followed quietly behind.

A/U: Sorry the chapter took so long - writer's block like a mother. I love reviews like a fat kid loves chocolate.


End file.
